


Elwing's Soliloquy.

by hennethgalad



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Last words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23161474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: Elwing confronts Maedhros and Maglor, standing over her sleeping children.15: 'an important moment'
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14
Collections: Back to Middle-earth Month 2020: Endings and Beginnings





	Elwing's Soliloquy.

"Yes. Be still, Ulmo awaits, his mighty arms hold Eärendil in trust  
And I, Elwing, daughter of Dior son of Lúthien, say to thee, accursed  
Red-handed sons of scornèd Fëanor: Begone! Thy claim is forfeit   
Thy rash and bloody deeds have made thy name a hissing in the street  
Thy wretched father’s vanity, who shouldst eagerly have offered forth  
Light which came from those long mournèd Trees, yet shut his bitter fist  
Thenceforth but darkness fills thy thought. And here is the long-sought Light  
But thou canst scarce draw near, wretched fools, for thou knowest, in truth  
This blessed wellspring shalt burn thee truly, more even than the desire  
Which burns thy black hearts.

Thy claim is void. Thine own oath cursed thee, and the first deed of thy quest  
The first foul slaughter, slaughter of my own, helpless kin, when thou and those fey  
Dogs who didst heed thy call to arm, whether fey or blinded by loyalty to thy name  
What horror... To kill on order, without question or reason!  
Heed my words, sons of Fëanor, these are the deeds of the Enemy, driving slaves with whip and fear,   
Slaves who do not question. For thy forfeiture was enacted with thine own hands  
Thy father’s claim, this gem being of his own devising, therefore his, is Forfeited   
First by thy seizure of the fleet of swan ships, and twofold for their burning  
And, for myself, for the murder of my kinfolk, both in Alqualondë the fair, and Doriath  
Oh! By this gem! May the grace within it save me from the memories. Oh!  
My mother, and my valiant father, and my brothers, whose deaths stain all Arda.

And now thou standest red-handed from killing my household, in my own chamber.  
Begone! I say again. Hast thou forgotten what thou art? Is it so long since first  
Thou took this cursèd path that all that was once in harmony in thy spirit is gone?  
The strength of thine arm in battle gainst our foe turned on thy fellows, on thine own kin! That is treachery, black treachery. Dost thou dare to name thyself eldar?  
These sleeping infants, lulled with poppy, will not face the horror of my brothers'  
Dreadful death, abandoned in the forest by beasts, left to the cold and the fear!  
Begone! I would that this Light in my hand were a weapon with which my wrath  
Inflaming the gem to potency in balance with the dread toll of thy murders  
And THUS with fiery blasts scour clean the face of Arda from thy wretchedness.

But this is no gem. It is a vessel only, meaning nothing. Were the secret not lost  
Perished with the cursèd Fëanor, then perchance it might be unmade  
The Light at last released, and thou also, freed from thy false Oath. 

Begone... There is naught for thee here. Thou shalt not touch the Light   
Rather I shall follow my beloved, my Eärendil, putting trust in the hands of Ulmo  
The sea calls me home, the sea calls the Light home, here the Music is clearest  
Here we were at peace, with the sails of the ships and the wild calling gulls  
Here we watched the foam roll endless under sparkling sunlight and glitter  
Beneath the silver stars. Here the path of Tilion beckons across the slow black swell

Begone! Or I shall go to Eärendil, with love in my heart. I see thy disbelief!  
But thou hast murdered my kinfolk whether we had this gem or no.   
Five generations of my blood, and yet more, dripping from thy foul hands!   
I have bid them farewell, brave Elros, and my clever Elrond. I ask only this  
Slay them while they sleep, let them not see the sword, the red, filthy swords  
Neither in thine hand nor thine eyes. They are innocent, my poor young otters  
They cannot harm thee."


End file.
